Halls of Chronos

 Things that have been put into motion can not be undone. We simply need to find a way to change the course of the river so that instead of careening off a cliff, it eases into the ocean. 

 Life exists in circles, in cycles. From beginning to end and back again it spins. Birth, growth, Death, Rebirth until the tape unwinds and even then it rewinds and plays again. The ink on the page never truly fades and the soul in the vessel never disappears. 

A pulse, like a heartbeat, shook Thomas Palmer from darkness. An all encompassing darkness that took a moment to dissipate. He felt like he was floating in warm water yet wasn't wet. Like he had laid down on the softest bed he had ever encountered. Safe and secure in the absence. His memory was lost in bits and snatches. A face of a woman, his mother perhaps. The sound of a bell, the alarm at the hospital. The feeling of pain, his jaw broken. The vastness of...

    As if snapped from a dream, Thomas became fully aware of his surroundings. His head darted from side to side, up and down letting his eyes adjust to the...light, yes light. Warm, inviting light. He blinked and the image became clear. Shelves upon shelves of books. In rows, in columns, in stacks, in piles. The image brought a smell to his mind, of the old library he had visited in his youth. The remembrance seemed to energize his feet and he was walking. Not simply meandering but being pulled forward, towards something. 

WE 

 "It's a balancing act. Ever so slightly tipping the scales this way or that way, until the proper outcome occurs." 

"Proper outcome? Isn't that just making fate what you want it to be? Creating realities? Instead of letting things be the way they are meant to be?" 

"Is that how you would describe the job of a caretaker? Letting things just be?" 

"Well no, but this isn't trimming a hedge or clearing a sidewalk of debris, this is...creation." 

"The tumblers of time do not swing freely, they are guided. Helped along. The caretaker...greases the wheels, cleans up the road, clears the debris." 

"That's...It's..." 

"What?"

"Not right!" 

"What's not right about it? It's your destiny." 

"Who am I? Who are we? To have sway over the..." Thomas struggled to find the right word. None of it made sense. 

"You misunderstand. We don't control the flow, the passage of events, we simply get rid of obstructions. Like dusting off a glass so the light can shine through. We don't alter, askew, or arrange the moments. We simply take care of them." 

"But you said, 'tipping the scales', that sounds like altering to me." 

"You must forgive, trying to construct meaningful explanations for such abstract things is difficult. I've, we've had millennia to try and nail it down but the language is still so difficult to pin down. It is after all more of an intuition, a feeling. As concrete as reality may seem, it is all just waves and feelings. But I, we stand by the name we've chosen. Caretaker, seems to best suit the task."